Impulsive
by shingekinorivaille
Summary: I stare at the blood. Then the blade. Then the blood again. I have become so impulsive… it just happened. Cutting, character death, slight Prumano and PruCan, hinted GerIta, Fem!Romano, Fem!Italy, Fem!Canada.
1. Impulsive

** I|M|P|U|L|S|I|V|E**

I stare at the blood. Then the blade. Then the blood again. I have become so impulsive… it just happened. I didn't mean for it to. I had just been so upset… and the next thing I knew, I was in the kitchen with a knife in one hand, blood running down my wrist, and tears falling from my eyes down to my chin, then dripping onto the floor.

I let go of the knife, and it clatters to the floor. I hear something—someone—behind me gasp softly. "Chiara?"

Silence. That's what filled the room. Then, footsteps. "G-go away," I stutter out.

"Nein. Why did you do this?" He gently grabs my arm and stares at it, assessing the damage.

I shake my head, weakly pulling away. "It just sort of happened."

He sighs. "That's how it always starts, isn't it?" His arm wraps around my waist, the other going back to my arm, holding it in front of me. I don't fight back this time, almost letting myself be comforted by the fact someone wants to help. Almost. This is one of the potato idiots, after all.

We're walking through the house, into the tiny bathroom. He lets go of me now, reaching to the top of the towel wrack and grabbing a clean wash cloth. I stop watching him for a moment, instead staring at myself in the mirror. I look like a mess. My hair is tangled into endless knots, my face is covered in tear stains. When did this happen? I blink, being pulled out of my thoughts, releasing a small whimper without realizing it. "Shh," he comforts, pressing the wash cloth onto the cut.

He works on stopping the bleeding and bandaging it. "Please, Chiara, promise me you won't do this again?"

I shake my head. "I didn't mean to. I can't control it if it does happen again."

The albino pulled his sleeve back and showed me his own wrist, covered in scars. "You don't want to end up like this, do you?"

No, I don't. But I know I will. I've managed not to do this for years. Now I have, and it felt… like relief. Painful, but relief. For only a moment… I was free of pain, through pain.

"Chiara."

Reality. Please, no, stop pulling me back into it. He's standing in front of me now—when did we get back into the living room?—his red eyes full of concern.

The door opens. My sorella walks in, along with the first potato idiot. He's carrying a few plastic bags and walks into the kitchen. Feli moves over to us, a bright smile adorning her face. I give Gilbert a warning look—_tell her and I promise I will kill you_—but when the smile falls from her face I know she's figured it out. Well, with such a large bandage on my wrist, it's not all that hard to.

"Chiara?" she asks quietly, blinking.

I tug myself from Gilbert's grasp and leave the room, going to my own, closing the door and locking it behind me. I don't move, I just lean against it for the time being. And ever so slowly, I begin to sink. I slide down, and I'm on the floor. I should get up, go to my bed, curl up under the covers, and fall into a deep sleep, but I can't bring myself to move. I hear them speaking in hushed voices. About me, of course.

"Sorella?" There's a knock on the door. I close my eyes. "Please open the door."

I stand, but make no move to answer; instead I walk across the room, rummaging through the bedside drawer. The doorknob jiggles. My search becomes more frantic.

"Sorella, I need to talk to you!"

Next drawer. It's not there. I open the last one, reaching around inside of it. Where is—there. Right there. I pull it out. A gun. Bright and shiny, never used. But loaded.

"Gilbert, Ludwig, I can't get her to answer!"

I turn off the safety.

"Chiara, open the door."

I hold it against my temple, trembling, my finger resting on the trigger.

There's banging. They're trying to force it open. I wait a moment. Should I do this? _Yes. No. _I don't know. I really don't. But there's no time to think. No time to waist. The door bursts open, I pull the trigger, and the last thing I hear is my sorella's desperate screams to stop me.

* * *

**And then I angst all over the place. Sorry-**

**It just happened. Like, she was only supposed to cut, but then she died. Ugh, why did I write that? When I'm in an angsty mood, these characters really have unfortunate fates. :I**

**Ah, so, yes. That's it. Except, not really, this is a two-shot, which I decided while writing the end. It'll either be Feli's POV or Gilbert's. I don't know yet.**

**[Also, I will mention to any cutters/self harmers. The butterfly project. Believe me, it works. Look it up, please, don't hurt yourself! You're awesome, even if you don't know it. You. Are. Awesome!]**

**Now, I need to write the next part. Except sometime within the next like few years, aha-**

**No, probably the next week or so.**

**Now, I should go to sleep. It's three in the morning. Past that, actually. Though I don't usually go to bed for another hour and a half over the summer…**

**Bye guys! Reviews are loooove!**


	2. Alone

**A|L|O|N|E**

I stop in the doorway, the sight playing out before me. The gun is against her temple, and then the blow comes. I scream, running to her, but I'm being pulled back. I look over my shoulder, still screaming. Ludwig's holding me. No, let go! My sorella…

He turns me around and I bury my head in his chest, the tears falling freely. My scream die down after a moment, there's nothing I can do. She's _gone…_ Just like that. In an instant. A locked door and a gun is all it took to take my sister from me.

* * *

The funeral comes around, but everything around me is a blur. My grandfather greets me with a tight hug. "How are you holding up?" he asks softly.

"I don't know."

He kisses the top of my head gently. "We'll get through this."

I nod, but otherwise say nothing. The funeral is about to begin, so I follow nonno to the front to take out seats. The entire time, I don't cry. Or say anything. I'm just… there. I had already lost my mother and my father… now my sorella… Nonno is getting older, though he's still in good shape.

_Nonno, please don't leave me, too…_

It ends. Afterwards, Antonio, my cousin, has a sad smile on his face, enveloping me into a hug. Then Francis. More and more people. It feels like fake sympathy though, they have no idea what this is like, do they?

Finally, Gilbert. He looks the same as me. Just there. No tears or sobs, just wishing silently that it wouldn't have to this.

There's a brunch, and then everyone leaves to carry on with their lives. How many of them will bother to remember her, I wonder.

When we get home, Ludwig sighs. I didn't eat—I barely have for the past week now. "Feliciana, you—"

"No."

"She wouldn't want you to be like this."

It happened. All of the thoughts turned to words, spilling from my mouth before I could stop them. "Obviously she did! She wouldn't have just gone and _killed herself _if she cared! First mama and papa, now my sorella! Next will nonno, he's going to leave too. Then, it'll just be _me. _Ludwig, I can't… I can't live like that! I can't be alone!"

"You're not alone."

"I—I know… but I just want my family…"

After that, I got up and went to her room. We had cleaned it, trying our best to leave everything as it was. I curled up on her bed. "Sorella… perché?"

* * *

**Much shorter and not as good as part one, but it'll do. I've decided this is going to have a few more parts—Gilbert will get his own POV… and Fem!Canada. Random character? Oh, but she has a nice amount to do with this, which you'll her when we get to that point. **

**I think that's it. I'll try and make the net part longer, but this is seriously jut what comes into my mind while I write, there isn't an actual plot or anything.**


	3. Scarred

**S|C|A|R|R|E|D**

Ever so slowly my eyes open to the harsh light flittering through the windows… I thought I closed the shades, but I guess not. I rub my head, sitting up… I need some painkillers; a headache has already hit me full blast. Hangovers just suck.

I walk from my room to the bathroom. Which is a bit of a journey, I have to pass through the long hallway, living room, and kitchen. When I'm in the kitchen, I pause as I near the calendar. April seventh… has it been a year? I blink, moving closer and staring.

An entire year without Chiara Vargas walking this earth. As much as it hurt, the world didn't stop spinning. It felt like it for the first six months though. I found ways to forget for a moment or two. Beer comes on handy when you need it to. And I resorted back to cutting… as disappointed as Francis and Antonio were, a part of me didn't care anymore. I was a lost cause after she died, and probably always will be. It scarred me, more than these deep cuts I inflict upon myself ever could.

I let out a breath I didn't realize I was holding, stepping away from the calendar.

"Gilbert?"

I turn, looking at my younger brother, Ludwig. "Ja?"

His face is softer than usual. Probably because… "…How are you holding up?"

I deadpan. "Hangover. Though not dead drunk… yet."

He sighs. I ignore him at this point, heading to the bathroom for the painkillers. They're needed right now. If only they could kill the other pain, the pain of loss, but they don't. I close and lock the door behind me, pulling out the painkillers from the cabinet, along with one of my razors. It was surprising Ludwig hadn't found them yet, they were right there in plain sight.

I down two of the painkillers and then sit on the edge of the bathtub. The razor is held in one hand, my other wrist out and ready for the pain. I drag it across, the blood pooling for a moment before spilling over, making a red trail down my arm, splitting at the crease and meeting again at my elbow, dripping to the floor.

There's a soft knock on the door. I don't reply, instead making another cut.

"Gilbert, please open the door, I don't—"

"I'm not going to kill myself, unless I accidently bleed out."

He sighs again. "Gilbert…"

I wince as I cut too deep without meaning to.

The phone rings, and footsteps tell me he's gone to answer. Again, I cut deeper. I usually stick with shallow cuts, but it just needs to be deep today. Maybe I will accidently bleed out. It would be fine with me.

"The phone's for you," Ludwig's voice sounds from the other side of the door, causing me to jump and drop the razor. I stand and unlock the door, grabbing the phone with my (cut) free hand. He tries to keep the door open, but I already have it shut and locked.

"Hallo?"

"Gilbert?" a soft voice asks.

"Birdie?"

"Oui… Would you like me to come over today to make sure you don't…?"

I sigh, it's too late at this point, and I tell her just that.

"I'm still coming over anyways, I don't want you accidently bleeding out. Besides, you never properly take care of your cuts."

Birdie was probably the only reason I was alive at this moment. I was so close to following Chiara, but then Birdie stopped that. It had been about a month after Chiara died… I was with Francis, and he told me his cousin Madeline was going to visit and he wanted us to meet. I'd heard a lot about her, of course, Francis gushed over her. I could see why the moment I met her, and so could Gilbird. He flew right from my hair to hers; it was the first time he'd done that to anyone… except Chiara.

We weren't in a relationship, and we still aren't. I won't be able to after Chiara. She understands that, her boyfriend had committed suicide as well, about a month before Chiara. It's bound to happen, and Francis already has the wedding planned.

I clean everything up… somewhat, at least. I don't bother with my cuts, knowing Birdie will take care of them the moment she gets here.

But then I'm waiting. She should be here any moment…

I wait, and wait. But she never comes…

* * *

**So, we're almost finished. One more chapter (unless I change my mind again…) and this actually has somewhat of a plot now. Sorry for anything being majorly misspelled, my writing program is going whack for some reason and only putting in like half of what I type. Ghrsudjgnv, it's annoying as heck.**

**Then next chapter is Madeline's point of view. Prepare to feel bad for Gilbert, he's not having the best of luck. [Which means there might end up being more to this because, well, you'll see in the next chapter.]**


	4. Insane

** Hey guys, last chapter. The first part it Madeline's POV and after the line break it's Gilbert's.**

**I|N|S|A|N|E**

I hang up the phone and shrug on my jacket. It may be spring, but it's been oddly cold this year. Not that the cold has ever bothered me, since I grew up surrounded in snow.

Locking the door behind myself, I rush out to my car and get going. It'll take me about fifteen minutes to get there… depending on the traffic. Hopefully it's not all the bad, and so far it doesn't seem it. I turn on the radio, letting the music drift softly throughout the car, mainly for background noise.

I don't see it coming, and I really shouldn't have to. The light's green, I get to go, and that's that. But the other person obviously didn't understand that.

* * *

A sigh escapes my lips as I stand there. Another closed casket funeral, another person I love. Halfway through Antonio has to lead me out. He says comforting words, though they do nothing. At this point, I don't hear him. I need an escape, I'll go insane. I feel so _weak _and I can't stand it.

Being vulnerable… it not something I can stand. Antonio stands after a moment and says something—I nod, though I didn't really hear his words. He walks back into the services, the doors shutting softly behind him.

I could leave, too, if I wanted. And I do. But how? I look around. Right out the doors, but then what? I want to leave in a way where it's a mix of Chiara and Madeline. Suicidal car crash? But that would risk someone else dying, and I could just end up injured. With my luck, it would be just that.

No, I'd just jump in front of a car. Yeah, sounded great. Just hopefully that person wouldn't mind. And if they do, I'm honestly not sorry.

So, I leave. No one's watching me. The street isn't that busy, a few cars passing up and down occasionally. I step to the edge of the sidewalk, looking down. Waiting is the worst…

I hear a car coming and my head snaps up. It turns the corner and is going too quickly to stop… _they'll swerve, this is stupid, just go home and kill yourself there._

Ignoring this, I watch it. The driver isn't paying much attention, they're too busy chatting with someone. Closer, closer…

At the last second, I jump out, and it's all over.

**T|H|E _ E|N|D**

* * *

** …And that's it. So, uh, did anyone cry at any point of this? Because I want to know if I can make people cry while they read ghgrhnd. I don't think it would've, it's not all that wonderful, but hey, I'm asking anyways. |D**

** Um, so, yeah. Did you guys like it? Was it something you enjoyed reading? Will you please drop a review if those last two questions were answered with a yes? Should I stop asking so many questions? Yeah, I should. Okay, bye guys, I hope you enjoyed it and thank you for reading.**


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